Monday, February 16, 2015

A Golden Gate Galentine's Day

Some days are so special that I cling to them for days afterwards, like a child would cling to the heavenly warmth of a blanket in the morning. I try to smile the same way in the mirror, or to zoom in on the pictures that captured the exquisite concentrated happiness that so many find in danger of extinction. But alas the pictures blur and pixel, and the smile is but the lingering shadow of an art that can never be recreated. Life’s sprinkled seasoning lands on select days, rendering one perfection and the next but an aftertaste. Still shall we try for one more bite?

I think of Valentine’s Day as an inventory of all the love in one’s life. Yes for some it is a romantic dinner out, for others a couple salty tears absorbed in handfuls of chocolates. But mine was a “Gal”-entine’s day to remember, my best on record. A day to squeal at the heart-shaped arrangement of york mints my room mate left on my bed, to skip arm in arm with one of my best friends (fully aware of our giggles outdoing the couples), to gift handmade cards and receive homegrown hugs. A day to bulge from happiness, not only the chocolate in my stomach.


The day began with coordinating pale pink dresses and hats and smiles. My friend Maddelyn and I set off for a breakfast in Golden Gate park, stopping to fluff our hair and fan out our dresses for an impromptu photo shoot in the gardens. From there we headed to the Mission for dance lessons. We were half way through the first one (some kind of fusion Jazz dance), still loving the nature of our flowing dresses, when the instructor began teaching floor work. So we gulped and still tried to do the dolphin dives, our dresses colored by the little black specks of the floor. We laughed breathlessly when we managed to stand up again without flashing the constantly running video camera. Next was belly dancing, taught by a beautiful Russian woman that put our hips to shame. She passed out waist scarves with coins that caught the shine of the spotlight on the stage. What I didn’t have naturally in skill (which was a lot) I made up for with those coins, each time taking a louder, sassier step forward.

Each step made in the Mission district is like entering a different dimension. We slid from mural to mural, backdrops to the passerby that reflected in expressions in different ways. We happened into two stores that were nothing like they appeared. One, painted like an English cottage on the outside, complete with caged birds and elegant vines, was in fact home to exotic cacti, taxidermy, and the Edgar Allen Poe type of odd. Every corner bulged with bones, horse heads turned unicorn, mice dressed up as cowboys. Next door was 826 Valencia, a nonprofit tutoring agency that was forced to sell a product in order to remain in the building. Of all things to choose, they selected pirate paraphernalia.

Next Maddelyn and I headed to the beach by the Golden Gate Bridge. Hundreds of people swirled about, hand in hand, hearts clear to see in their faces. The city was an open book, each passerby with a story easily revealed. The silhouettes of couples dotted the edge of the gentle waves right as the sky ripped open its seams. The sunset could not have been a greater tribute to the day. The pinks and purples oozed over the beating red of the bridge. My heart wiped everything clean in that moment, just to store that sky. I could feel the photographic quality of the night around me, and I danced into my own memories. Maddelyn and I spread our arms for a silhouette shot, and I could not help but to think of The Notebook line “Say I’m a bird!” But honestly, I couldn’t dream of flying away. It felt as though I’d just landed.


We returned to the school for chocolate and chic flicks. But even movie watching changes after such a day. It changed because for once my day could compete. For once my silhouette marked the horizon of a dream, bursting and brightening the lives of lovers and friends and families and humans for miles and miles. It goes to show happiness is in the air, always ready to hold your hand. Perhaps it is not so much that happiness is going extinct, but that most do not know of its habitat. It is just another dimension you must slip into, just another jingling coin belly dance away. It will not be made accessible by only the chocolate, the movies, even the lover. For me it was opened by a friend, as if she had ripped open the sky herself. But once it’s opened, embraced in its pure form, it takes days to run its profound course. I’m still licking my lips.